The Daughter of Darkness
by The Shadow Goddess
Summary: This is the parallel story to Harry Potter. The story of how two presentably evil lovers and and their daughter changed the course of the story. Leilastera Black, a girl in the same year as Harry and his friends, has a very strange life. She doesn't know who she is or of any of her family. All she knows is that she is being lied to, and everyone but she knows why.
1. Prologue

Prologue

Albus Dumbledore apparated to the front lawn of Tonks House, walking almost hesitantly toward the front door. He gave it a knock, one quiet knock, as if he were still unsure this was the best idea.

And let me tell you, when Professor Dumbledore, perhaps one of the two greatest sorcerers in the world, is unsure of something, that something could definitely not be good.

The door opened. A witch, around the age of forty, stood just before him.

"Professor Dumbledore," she said, a bit shocked that the headmaster of Hogwarts stood on her doorstep.

"Andromeda," he greeted back. "It's been a while."

"Yes it has," she said, confused. "Is there a problem? The last time you showed up at my door was during the war. Does this have to do with the order?"

"Only partially," Dumbledore said. "This is not a matter for the entire order to discuss. I thought you might need to know though. I've been holding this off too long."

Andromeda looked a bit nervous, but still quite puzzled.

"Why don't you come in?"

"Thank you," the professor stepped through the door and gazed around the house. "Are you alone?"

"My husband and my daughter are both at the ministry for Auror business, yes," she said. "Why?"

"It is not something I think either of them would be very pleased about."

"What is it, Professor?" Andromeda was definitely worried now.

"Maybe you should sit down." Dumbledore gestured over to the couch in the Tonks' sitting room.

"Perhaps this should be spoken about over tea," Andromeda said, her eyebrows knit. Dumbledore nodded.

"Yes I think that may be best," the professor said, sighing. Andromeda headed to the kitchen as Dumbledore, exhausted by the too many thoughts in his head, slumped down in an armchair.

The girl would be dangerous and powerful, and what could he about it? Nothing. He tried with her father, and later her mother. Neither of them gave in. He thought being raised with muggles, parents who loved her, it would be easier to turn her against her birth parents.

And although her father was raised by muggles as well, they didn't love him. To have his daughter adopted into a nice, loving home was a lot better than an orphanage where everyone thought you were a freak. But did it make you any different? If you were born from those genes?

All the professor knew was that the girl could not know. Not at least until she was mature enough to handle it. Not until she was sure where her loyalties stood. She was just a child. She would go looking for them. She might even try to free her mother and bring her father back. It would be better if she thought he didn't know either. If she and all the other students at Hogwarts thought she was the big mystery as to who she was.

She was adopted by muggles but that didn't mean her real parents were or not. She would without a doubt be in Slytherin, so muggle parents would be unlikely. But whatever parents she was born to were unknown.

That was the story Albus would stick to. For now, anyway. It wasn't like it would rid her of friendships with the other Slytherins. You didn't have to be raised by pure-bloods to fit in. You just have to be a half-blood or a pure-blood yourself.

Her father was a half-blood raised by muggles yet still the most popular among the Slytherin boys and one of the greatest sorcerers to ever exist, alongside Dumbledore himself. Her father was terrible, but great. And the professor hoped his daughter could be great in a good way. But it was hard to see that happening.

His thoughts were interrupted when Andromeda appeared at the doorway with a tray of tea. She set it down on the coffee table and set herself down on a couch across from the professor.

She didn't lean back or get comfortable. In fact she was quite stiff and impatient at waiting for Dumbledore's explanation. He knew she was impatient, so he began right away.

"This information has been known to me for nearly eleven years," he started. Then he paused. Perhaps it would be best to cut to the chase and not procrastinate, as he had for so long. "Did you know that eleven years ago, your sister had a baby?"

"Yes of course," Andromeda looked confused that he would think this to be a shock.

"Not your younger sister," he stated simply, not meeting her eyes. That was all that needed to be said on who. There was no need for names. In fact, it would probably be best without them.

"Oh," Andromeda's expression had turned stiff and shocked, but now more understanding. "I did not realize she ever wanted a child."

"Perhaps she didn't," Albus said. "But nevertheless she has one, and when I took it from her, she sure fought to get it back. The father sent many to look for the girl, although never telling them it was theirs."

"Rodolphus sent people to find his daughter?" Andromeda asked, her eyebrow raised.

"No. He is not the father."

"Who is?"

"I think you know. At least that is what people seem to think when they say 'you know who'." Andromeda's expression then was priceless. Although she didn't seem as shocked as Dumbledore thought she would.

"Wow," she said. "I never realized he loved her back."

"Perhaps he didn't," the professor said. "Perhaps it was just for pleasure, what they did." Andromeda looked as if she might be sick at that comment. "Hold on," the professor said, seeming a bit confused himself. "Did you say loved her back? You mean to say it was known to you that she loved him?"

"Why professor, it would be known to anyone who took a look at the two of them," said Andromeda, almost in a humorous manner.

"I did notice, during your sister's term at school, that she seemed to speak greatly of Tom to her friends." Andromeda winced when he said 'Tom'. "I am sorry Andromeda, but I see no point in fearing the name. It would only increase the fear people have towards him."

"I do not fear the name, Albus," Andromeda explained. "It just brings back so many memories. She used to call him that. My older sister. In fact I predict she still did, even as a death eater, when they were alone. You see, when my sisters and I were young, The Dark Lord came over often. He would join us for holidays or family gatherings. Although my father was never a death eater, he was a well-known companion to the lord."

"You call him that, The Dark Lord, as if he is your lord. As if you were a death eater yourself," the professor pointed out. Andromeda winced slightly again.

"Old habits, I suppose," she said. "I haven't spoken of him in years. Or any of them. They were my family, you see. All of them, even those who I wasn't closely related to. We were together as children. That includes The Dark Lord. He wasn't a child with us of course, but he was a good friend in raising us to our parents. In fact, I overheard our parents speaking once of him being our godfather. Though I only heard them speaking of my older sister then. Perhaps Narcissa and I have others."

"Forgive me if this hits a personally emotional spot, but I noticed you are comfortable with speaking your younger sister's name, but not your older sister's. Why is this?"

"Narcissa never had huge issues with me. She was always very kind and loving to all of us. She tried her hardest to please our parents, for they always favored Be – the other one. Narcissa had a respectable pure-blood marriage. I didn't think there was anything wrong with that, just as there was nothing wrong with marrying a muggleborn as I have. She loved her husband and I thought that was all that mattered. When I left, she had a hard time watching me leave. As I heard it, she ran up to her bedroom to cry. Bellatrix didn't though. She screamed and yelled at me for doing absolutely nothing throughout all our childhood. If I were to even speak to a muggle or look at one with anything that layered attraction, she would say I was disgraceful and abnormal.

"She said that one day, and I quote 'When Tom rises in power, I, along with any other loyal, respectable pureblood, will rise with him by his side. Dirty mud-bloods like you will be tortured and laughed at until finally one day they will get tired of you and kill you. If it meant I could be as powerful and great in my lord Tom's eyes, I would torture and laugh at you and kill you myself. Because you are a disgrace to the family!'"

"Did you love her?" the professor asked. "Even though the both of you certainly did not see eye to eye, she was still your sister. You had to have loved her at some point."

Andromeda nodded. "I did. I may still do, though it has been too long since I last saw her to know for sure. I convinced myself I hated her, and I may, but I will still have some love for her in all that hatred."

"That's understandable," Dumbledore said. "I never saw eye to eye with my brother either, though I always still loved him, even if it wasn't as strong as it might have once been."

"Did you come just to tell me of my niece, professor?" Andromeda asked. "Because though I find this all very intriguing to know, I haven't spoken to any other of my family since I graduated from Hogwarts. This doesn't really affect me."

"Would you not want it too?" the professor looked disappointed. "I mean to keep the child away from her parents, and so far it has worked, but she will be getting her Hogwarts letter soon. Things will be explained to her soon. I won't tell her who her parents are, but I fear she will stop at nothing to find them. She was adopted by a muggle family and I had requested they make her think she is their own. Now I realize how foolish this was on my part. She will feel betrayed when she gets her note. She will turn against her adoptive parents and seek out her birth parents. I now realize I have set her up to join forces with the enemy."

"Then lie to her," Andromeda suggested. "Tell her her parents are some other people. Give her legitimate names of good-natured pure bloods that had died years ago."

Dumbledore nodded. "I had thought of that. I just feel like if she does find out later on that these are not her parents either, she will go to the enemy. If we pretend we do not know who her legitimate parents are, but show her that we are on her side, maybe we can get her to stay on our side. We need to let her trust us."

"So, where do I come to play in all this?"

"That depends. Do you want to be a part of her life?"

Andromeda shook her head. "If we want our plan of trust to work, she cannot know of any family at all. That includes her long forgotten aunt."

"I doubt you are forgotten."

"Perhaps not completely, but they _hope_ to forget me."

"_They_ will play no part in her life."

Andromeda gave a sorrowful nod and they both stood. Dumbledore turned towards the door.

"Thank you for the tea," he said politely, though neither of them had touched it.

Andromeda nodded and gave him a sad smile. "Good afternoon, professor."

Dumbledore smiled back and gave a nod before turning and beginning to walk away.

"Professor?" Andromeda called out before he was able to get far enough from the house to disapparate. He turned to look at her once more. "Just tell me one more thing," Andromeda said. "It's all I need to know . . . What is her name?"

"Leilastera," Professor Dumbledore said. "Leilastera Black."


	2. Chapter 1: The Professor

Chapter 1

When the knock sounded from the front door, I hadn't thought much of it. I'm not sure exactly whom I thought it to be, and I hadn't much cared. I was upstairs in my room, engulfed in a book about witches.

Yet soon after the knock came, so did the voice of my mother calling my name.

I sighed and placed my bookmark in my book, before heading downstairs.

The man was standing talking to my mum in the foyer. They turned as I reached the bottom few steps. The man was thin and pale, with sallow skin, a large, hooked nose and yellow, uneven teeth. He was dressed in odd clothing: black robes that flowed down to his ankles. For a moment, I couldn't tell where his hair stopped and his robes started, as his hair was the same shade of black and it was greasy, framing his face like curtains, closely resembling what could be a hood to his robes. As he and I met eyes from across the hall, I could see that his eyes were very dark and the shading around them made me think of tunnels.

The man walked up to me and reached out his hand for me to shake.

"Good morning, Leilastera," he said. His voice was soft. His lips were curled. "I am Professor Snape."

"Professor?" I shook his hand quickly, lowering mine right back down as soon as possible.

"Yes," he nodded. "At a school. A school in which you have been accepted."

"What kind of school?" I narrowed my eyes. "I don't recall applying to any school."

"I'm going to make us some tea," my mum said. "Feel free to make yourself at home, Professor."

He did so as my mother stepped out of the parlor, sitting himself on a couch. I sat down in an armchair across from him.

"Is it a school for different people?" I asked, "Mad people?"

"Different, yes," the professor said. "But not mad. Perhaps this will explain it . . ." He reached into the pocket of his long, black robes and pulled out an envelope. He reached across to hand it to me.

HOGWARTS SCHOOL

_of_ WITCHCRAFT AND WIZARDRY

Headmaster: Albus Dumbledore

(Order of Merlin, First Class, Grand Sorc., Chf. Warlock,

Supreme Mugwump, International Confed. of Wizards)

Dear Ms. Chamberlain,

We are pleased to inform you that you have been accepted at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Please find enclosed a list of all necessary books and equipment.

Term begins on September 1. We await your owl by no later than July 31.

Yours sincerely,

_Minerva McGonagall _

Minerva McGonagall,

_Deputy Headmistress_

"School of Witchcraft and Wizardry?" I questioned, raising my eyebrows. "Is this your idea of a joke?"

"What would you mean by that?"

"Everyone knows it. I'm different. I always have been. But you seem to be implying that I'm a witch . . ."

"Well, how are you different?"

"I'm not so sure that I should tell you."

"How would either of us know the truth if you were too afraid to tell me?"

"Oh, I'm not afraid," I demanded. "I am not afraid of anything."

"Everyone is afraid of something," Snape said. "This may not necessarily be a fear of yours but you do have at least one fear."

"You're wrong."

Snape sighed: "Tell me why you are different."

"It's weird," I begin, "but I just don't act like the other children. When I was very little, it was difficult to understand why people wouldn't be around me. After a while I figured out that I had this natural aura of fear. I'm not sure how it started exactly, but I guess I must have hurt someone without meaning to. When people make me mad, bad things happen to them. At first it seemed like luck, but it eventually became creepy. The kids told their parents, and their parents started talking about some witch child that possessed their children. So the next year, my parents enrolled me at a private school. I figured out that my weird 'aura' could work in a good way too. I eventually obtained power through it. People accepted me more if they thought that my powers were on their side. Of course, eventually the mystical aura to all this wore off, but I was still the most popular at my school. And that still remains."

"How're your grades? Do you enjoy school?" Snape looked very inquisitive now, almost suspicious.

"Great. I wouldn't say I love school, but I'd rather do well now and end up more powerful later than have fun and do poor, and pay for it later."

"You talk about power a lot," the professor said. "Is that . . . a personal aim? What I mean to say is: is power more important to you than glory, or wisdom, or friendship?"

"Definitely," I admitted. "Those other three will hopefully come along with power as well, but I suppose power itself would be the first step."

Snape narrowed his eyes and stared almost in accusation at me.

"What?" I ask after a moment. "Does that surprise you?"

"No," he said. "Well, not your thirst for power. I'd be surprised if you didn't want power."

"Everyone wants power."

"Not everyone, Leilastera."

"Why ever not?" I asked. "Power will place you where you will be for the rest of your life. Everyone would want to be at the top. But only a few can in the end."

"That is true, but I assume some people would rather be loved or looked up to or known to be wise than be isolated at the top."

"But you wouldn't be isolated. You would have power over everyone."

"Yes, but you wouldn't have friends."

"That would be a personal choice, I think," I continue to argue.

"Leilastera, I'm not arguing with you," Snape said. "I actually agree. I would rather be powerful than wise or brave or loving."

"Why those four?"

"Excuse me?"

"There are so many different aspects in the world, yet you keep repeating those four in particular: Power, bravery, wisdom, and love."

"You're observant," the professor pointed out.

I shrugged. "It wasn't too hard. Quite obvious, actually."

"Oh, so you are modest as well."

"No," I smirked. "You are quite wrong about that one. It actually makes me more of a showoff to act modest than it does to accept my greatness."

"I suppose you could look at it that way, yes," the professor said. "So anyway, the four traits we talked about . . . Each represent a house at Hogwarts."

"A house?"

"When you first arrive at Hogwarts, you are sorted into one of the houses based on your personality, your abilities, your family . . . several things."

"So how could I be sorted? I mean, though I'll admit I have some amount of ability, my family doesn't, and I'll feel that my personality can't possibly be everything."

"Well, I must say I would be surprised if you were in any other than my own house."

"Your own house?" I inquired. "So professors have houses too?"

"Well, those who went to Hogwarts as a student years ago do. Most had, but there were a select few who studied in other places. I myself am in Slytherin, the house known for our hunger for power. We are mostly made of very pure, powerful wizard lines."

"So then I couldn't be placed in Slytherin. I thought you were saying that was where I was meant to be, but I don't come from a powerful and pure wizard line. My parents are ordinarily mundane."

"The parents who raised you, yes, but are you so sure that applies to you–"

"Alright, professor, I think that is enough," my mum had reentered the room, holding a tea tray with angry, shaking fingers. "I told you I would allow you to speak to my daughter about the school, that I would be fine with her attending, but I did not state that you could corrupt her mind with stories about her being part of a powerful wizard line just so she will be placed into your house."

"Mrs. Chamberlain–"

"Now I know she is an intriguing person to speak to. She would certainly be a remarkable pupil for any teacher to have, but that does not mean that I want you to turn her into someone she is not."

"I am interested to hear what he has to say, mum," I tried, but apparently that wasn't good enough.

"Of course you are," my mum shrieked. She walked over and attempted to cover my ears with her hands, but I pushed away. "Leila, he is taking advantage of your mind. He just wants to prove that he can make a young Slytherin girl into a remarkable witch one day, as so many of them seem to go astray with their desires."

"Go astray? Wait, what do you know? Why do you know about any of this, mum?" I asked.

"She doesn't," Snape said, still seated comfortably on the couch as if everything going on was not a big deal at all. "She thought she could handle it, but she cannot. Leilastera, when your parents adopted you ten years ago–"

"NO!" mum seemed to have lost it. "How dare you come into our home any feed my daughter such ghastly lies? Get out!"

"Wait!" I shrieked. I met my mother's eyes. "That wasn't a lie, mum."

"Honey, he is a practiced liar," she said. "He's evil."

"Mum."

She hesitated, then sighed.

"No . . . he was not lying," mum admitted. "You . . . were adopted ten years ago. A man . . . this man" – she gestured to Snape – "came in to talk to us about adopting a baby. Although the way he was doing it was very strange, I understood it. He was trying to make sure you got into a loving home quickly rather than placing you in the care of an adoption agency where it could take years before you were placed in a good home. So he had come to our door and told us he knew of our situation. Apparently he had done quite a bit of research. You see, your father and I had just come back from our honeymoon when I found out I was pregnant. Though it didn't last long. A few months in, we went to the doctor to find out that it was, in fact, a girl. On the way home, we got into a car accident and I had a miscarriage. I was permanently damaged and unable to get pregnant again.

"Your father and I were miserable until the professor showed up on our doorstep with you wrapped in a blanket. When he said you needed a home and that he wanted us to take you . . . well, that was the happiest moment of my life. And your father's as well . . . though the professor said you came with a price: That eleven years into your life, he would be back to take you to a school. You are to attend that school for seven years, only coming back for summer break and for Christmas Holiday. He said it wasn't a normal school. It was a school for magic. He said . . . well, I suppose he can explain the rest . . ."

We both turned to look at the Professor.

"I was hoping to explain the rest later on," he said, mainly to my mum. "Now would be a good time to go shopping for school supplies. She has a lot to buy, and what better place to show her what it is like to be a witch or a wizard but in Diagon Alley."

"Where?" I asked, but Snape only smirked.

"I'll bring her back before dinner time," he told my mum. She nodded, and, without another word or even a look in my direction, left the parlor. I heard the stamping of her feet as she ran up the stairs, and I winced as I heard a door slam above us.

"She is just in shock," Snape said.

"_She's_ in shock? What about me? She knew this was coming."

"I think she has been in denial of it ever since I left you here. She hoped it was just some sick joke, or that I would forget about it."

"So," I said after a moment, trying to change the subject. "We might as well go then. Do I need anything? Money?"

To my surprise, the professor shook his head. "You have money at Gringotts, the wizard bank. Your birth parents' money."

"Who are my birth parents, anyway?" I asked him eagerly.

But the professor shook his head, and said, "I'm afraid I cannot tell you that, Leilastera."

"Why not?" I asked. "And it's just Leila, by the way."

"Because, _Leila_," Snape said. "I don't know who your parents are."

_But he did._

"You're lying," I said.

"No, I am not," he persisted.

_Why must he keep it from me? I won't find out now. But I will one day. I'll find out for myself, if I must. _

I narrowed my eyes and glared daggers into his. But his face remained unchanged.

After a moment, I dropped my glare as if nothing had ever happened.

I stood up and began walking toward the front door. I turned and looked at him.

"Well?" I said. "Aren't you coming? I'm quite eager to see this _'Diagon Alley'_."

Professor Snape smirked and stood.

"We won't need to go out the front door," he said.

"Oh I see," I said. "Since you're a wizard, all you need to do is flick your fingers and we'll appear where we want to go, right?"

"It's _not_ that easy. Similar to the truth, but not quite. In fact, I'm not sure whether we should just call a cab, as this is very advanced magic. You won't be able to do it on your own. I will, but disapparition is difficult even for the side-along minor like yourself."

"What is it, exactly?"

"It is basically a form of teleportation. Do you know anything about that?"

I nodded, and said: "So basically you think of a place in your mind where you want to go, and you just appear there?"

Snape nodded. "You will not be able to do this until you are seventeen, but you can still be side-along apparated with an adult."

"How?"

To answer, Snape held out his arm. I got the message and gripped his forearm. All of a sudden, the world spiraled and went black.


	3. Chapter 2: Gringotts

Chapter 2: Gringotts

Disapparating was rather uncomfortable, but it was wicked. I felt as if I could not breathe. For a moment, I was sure the world around me was pressing in on me, causing everything to shrink and pull in tighter. Then, just like that, the real world had returned. I almost fell, and I felt a bit queasy, but I pulled myself together quickly and looked around.

We had arrived in London, on the sidewalk of a rather small street. There were shops and restaurants and cinemas, nothing that looked too out of the ordinary. Snape pointed to a tiny, grubby-looking pub.

"That is The Leaky Cauldron," he told me. At first glance in the direction of the pub, I only saw the shops around it. The people walking past on the street didn't seem to see it either.

"Sir, you said we were going to Diagon Alley," I said, then decided I didn't want him to have to correct me or explain something to me. I could figure it out myself. "I'm assuming the entrance is in there. It is a witch and wizard pub, is it not?"

Snape met my eyes and smirked. "Smart mouth, are we?" I smirked back to him and opened the door to The Leaky Cauldron. It was rather dark and ramshackle, though there was a reasonable amount of people sitting at the bars and the wooden tables. It was quite rustic, but there was a comfortable, peaceful feel to the whole place. Perhaps it was simply the magical aura I felt around me, but I loved it.

Snape placed his hand on my shoulder and led me quickly through the bar and out into a small, walled courtyard, where there was nothing but a trash can and a few weeds. He took out what I assumed to be his wand, holding it before the bricks in the wall above the trash can. He quickly seemed to analyze the bricks, looking for the correct ones. He tapped the wall three times with the tip of his wand.

The brick he had touched quivered – it wriggled – in the middle. The wall seemed to break apart in holes, and soon enough, we were facing a large archway. It led to a cobbled street that twisted and turned out of sight.

"This, Leila," the professor smirked, "is Diagon Alley." I was so excited I couldn't respond. Before taking a step further, I looked back to see the archway was now solid wall again. I gaped but smiled as I began to walk down the cobbled street.

The nearest shopped sold all different types of cauldrons. The next shop was an apothecary, selling many strange ingredients for potions. The next sold owls, and then another sold what appeared to be broomsticks. I wondered if, like in the children's stories about witches, people flew broomsticks.

Before I could continue letting my eyes and mind wander to any more strange items, I shook myself.

"So what do witches and wizards call non-witches and wizards?" I asked as we walked.

"Muggles," the professor said.

"And how do we . . . feel about them?" Snape sighed, as if dreading having to talk to me of all people about this. Something was strange.

"Most magical folk don't have much problem with them," he began, "though only some fraternize with them. Pure-bloods – and sometimes half-bloods – that do so are called blood traitors by other pure or half-bloods. It is considered quite rude to call them that. There is also a rude word used to call muggle-borns: mudbloods. I would not be surprised to hear you repeat that as you are a Slytherin, though I suggest you do it discreetly."

"What am I?"

"We'll talk about that later," he said.

"Fine," I continued to look around at the shops.

"So I suppose the bank is first?" I asked. Snape nodded.

"Gringotts," he said, "the only wizard bank in the world. It is run by goblins."

"_Goblins_?" I was excited again. "I've read about goblins in fantasy books, but I guess those could be way off from the _real_ goblins."

"Well, let's see," Snape said. "Tell me what you think you might know."

I thought about it for a moment. "They're clever, right? But they use that cleverness for mischief. They often play nasty tricks for fun."

"That's about right," Snape said. "Mainly they are just quite unfriendly . . . so you said you've read fantasy books?" I nodded. "Is that a personal interest?"

"Yes," I said. "Though I suppose it has to do with me being a witch myself. It must have been some sort of instinct."

"When we get your books, we'll go into Flourish and Blotts," Snape said. "Since you grew up with muggles, unknowing of who you really are, you will start out the year a bit behind. So I suppose you could purchase a few books about the wizard world just to read on your own."

"Okay," I agreed. "I'll probably read all of my textbooks prior to the year, as well."

"That's what I want to hear," Snape smiled. "You know, if you really wanted to start out the year completely ahead of all the others, even those who grew up in extremely pure and powerful families, I can help you study."

"Really?" I asked. "Thank you."

"Oh don't thank me," he said. "This helps me just as much as you. You see, I'm the head professor of Slytherin house, and since you will without-a-doubt be in Slytherin, I need to guarantee you are the best student in my first year class."

"Why?" I asked. "Wait, don't tell me, it's because there's some sort of competition between the houses, right? You don't want any of the students of the other houses better than your best."

Snape smirked. "That's exactly the deal."

"Okay," I smirked back. "I'm certainly looking forward to beating the competition as well."

We had just stopped in front of a huge white building. It towered over all the other shops. That's when I caught my first glimpse of a goblin as it stood by the burnished bronze doors. It was at least a head shorter than me, wearing a uniform of scarlet and gold. As I had read, it had a swarthy, clever face, a pointed beard and very long fingers and feet.

We walked inside to face another pair of of doors, but these were silver. They had words engraved upon them:

_Enter, stranger, but take heed_

_Of what awaits the sin of greed,_

_For those who take, but do not earn,_

_Must pay most dearly in their turn._

_So if you seek beneath our floors_

_A treasure that was never yours,_

_Thief, you have been warned, beware_

_Of finding more than treasure there._

Snape leaned over and whispered in my ear: "There's a dragon. That's the warning."

"A dragon, really?" I asked excitedly. "How can you keep a dragon inside a bank? There's no room."

"You would be surprised," was all Snape said, smirking.

Another pair of goblins bowed us though the silver doors, and then we arrived in a vast marble hall. About a hundred more goblins were sitting on high stools behind a long counter, scribbling in large ledgers, weighing coins in brass scales, examining special stones through eyeglasses. Leading off the hall, there were too many more doors to count, yet there were more goblins directing people in and out of these. The professor and I made toward the counter.

"I'm Professor Severus Snape," he told the goblin. "I believe Dumbledore sent word that I was coming with young Leilastera here."

The goblin scowled down at me.

"What vault?" he asked Snape. "Do you have her key?"

"You know that we could not get her key. And I suppose her mother's vault would be better to use."

"Her mother's vault? What vault would that be?"

"You know," Snape pressed on, glaring.

The goblin looked frustrated. "We cannot get in that vault, unfortunately. They had enchanted it. Besides, though that is her mother's, it is also the vault of her mother's husband, and I don't think that would be suitable."

_Husband, but not my dad? Okay, so my mom had gotten pregnant off an affair_.

"No, I tell you what's suitable, goblin," Snape's patience had thinned quite a bit in the last minute or so, but his voice never rose.

"Well, professor, I suppose there is still her father's," she goblin suggested. I saw Snape's face madden a lot at that.

_So Snape knew my father personally then. Something bad had gone down, and it wasn't forgiven perhaps?_

"If we must," the professor said.

"Dumbledore actually wanted us to use that one," the goblin said. "He brought the key over."

"Well, why didn't you say that?" Snape demanded. The goblin just smirked.

When the goblin turned to call another goblin over, Snape leaned down and whispered: "I _hate_ goblins."

I laughed. "Yes, I could see that. They're very annoying, I agree, but I still find them quite fascinating."

Another goblin came over and gestured for us to follow. He led us toward one of the doors leading off the hall. The goblin held the door open for us and we passed into a rough passageway, which was lit with flaming torches. There were railway tracks on the floor. The goblin whistled and a small cart came hurtling up the tracks toward us from within the darkness. We climbed in and the cart took off with a slight jerk.

The cart gathered speed quickly before it began twisting and turning through the labyrinthine passages, sloping downward. It was difficult to hear anything over the rattling of the cart on the tracks.

My wicked black curls flew in my midst as we swerved deeper. I had been gazing all around me, but just as I looked back ahead, we zoomed right through a waterfall. I was sopping wet, and though my hair was too it still managed to remain as big and curly as ever.

"Why is there a waterfall here?" I yelled so the others could hear me.

"It's protection!" the goblin shouted. "We call it The Thief's Downfall! It washes away all spells and enchantments! If a wizard or witch was to conceal themselves to look like another so to rob the bank, it would take that away and the cart would tip them over to drop them!"

"Brilliant!"

I looked to Snape. He seemed just as mesmerized as me.

"I've never been to this part of the bank before!" he said loudly as he seemed to notice my expression.

"There's another part?"

"Many!" the goblin answered. "All through the different doors there were back there go to separate parts! They differentiate based on availability, richness, and amount of protection needed! The section we are in right now is the richest and highest protected, and therefore, naturally, the purest!" He looked at me and probably saw my confused expression. "Pure-bloods are witches and wizards with no muggle blood! Ones with both are half-bloods, and ones with only muggle blood are muggle-borns!" I nodded in understanding.

"Is my mother's vault here too?" I asked the goblin.

"Yes, all the pure descendants of the Black Family that weren't blasted off the family tree have vaults here!" the goblin yelled back. The wind began to get even stronger as we got deeper.

"Black Family descendants?" I looked into the goblins eyes.

"Your mother–"

"Alright, that's enough from you!" Snape cut him off. I expected his tone would be at a yell even if we could hear easily. "Dumbledore told you not to tell her anything!"

The goblin scowled and looked away. I turned and met Snape's eyes.

"So you admit it, do you?" I demanded as the cart began to slow. "You admit – although I knew this already – that you do know. So do the goblins. I could tell you personally know them too" – the cart came to a stop by the side of a ledge – "or at least my dad."

Snape gazed at me for a moment and sighed. "As your teacher, I should think making you figure it out on your own would do more for your education. Would you not agree?"

I smiled mischievously and stepped out of the cart. The walls beyond the ledge were all rocky except for the wooden door that stood in front of me. The goblin came to stand beside me and pressed the palm of his hand against the wood. Once he did this, the door to the vault melted away to reveal a cave-like opening crammed from floor to ceiling with gold, silver, and all kinds of other strange objects.

The vault looked the size of a ballroom, and I could hardly see the walls or the ceiling as it was packed high with gold. He really was rich. It all reminded me of The Lonely Mountain in _The Hobbit_, how this was all very like a cave in a mountain stocked with gold, just as that mountain was.

"This is the largest and most richly stocked vault at Gringotts," the goblin explained.

"The only reason it is all still here and did not go to the Ministry after your father's death," Snape said, coming to stand behind me and putting his hands on my shoulders, "is you. It's all yours now, Leila. Technically you inherited it as a baby, but because you lived with muggles before and had no need of it, you get it now."

I smiled and looked back at him. "So, technically, I'm now the richest witch in the world?" He nodded and I smirked. "Wicked."

Snape chuckled. "Your mum is very wealthy too."

"But she and her husband share that so it's not at all mine, right?" I asked. Snape looked stunned for a moment before realizing that I had probably been listening to the earlier row between him and the other goblin.

"Yes, that's correct," Snape said. He took a black bag out of his inner robes pocket and the two of us filled it with some of the gold and silver coins while the goblin stood by the entrance with a sneer expression on his face.

We had packed a lot into the bag, but it had hardly made the vault look any less rich. When we got back into the cart and headed back to the entrance, Snape looked over my shoulder at the bag and explained a few things.

"The gold coins are Galleons!" we had to shout to hear each other again. "Seventeen silver Sickles to a Galleon and twenty-nine Knuts to a Sickle. You have packed a lot more than most Hogwarts students would need. If you spent on just school supplies, it would last you and the rest of the Slytherins in your year and the year above you perhaps all seven terms." I laughed at that. Perhaps I didn't need to worry about what I spent on.


	4. Chapter 3: The Dark Arts

Chapter 3: The Dark Arts

"Rich . . . pure . . . though you won't tell me, sir, I'm certainly on a path to figure it out myself," I said as we walked out the front doors of Gringotts a few minutes later.

"Which is how it should be," he replied. There was something in his voice . . . something I wouldn't quite call nervousness. It seemed to be a mixture of many feelings, with nervousness laid firmly on top.

I pulled out my list of supplies:

HOGWARTS SCHOOL

of WITCHCRAFT and WIZARDRY

UNIFORM

First-year students will require:

1. Three sets of plain work robes (black)

2. One plain pointed hat (black) for day wear

3. One pair of protective gloves (dragon hide or similar)

4. One winter cloak (black, silver fastenings)

Please note that all pupils' clothes should carry name tags

COURSE BOOKS

All students should have a copy of each of the following:

_The Standard Book of Spells (Grade 1)_ by Miranda Goshawk

_A History of Magic_ by Bathilda Bagshot

_Magical Theory_ by Adalbert Waffling

_A_ _Beginners' Guide to Transfiguration_ by Emetic Switch

_One Thousand Magical Herbs and Fungi_ by Phyllida Spore

_Magical Drafts and Potions_ by Arsenius Jigger

_Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them_ by Newt Scamander

_The Dark Forces: A Guide to Self-Protection_ by Quentin Trimble

OTHER EQUIPMENT

1 wand

1 cauldron (pewter, standard size 2)

1 set glass or crystal phials

1 telescope

1 set brass scales

Students may also bring an owl OR a cat OR a toad

PARENTS ARE REMINDED THAT FIRST YEARS ARE NOT ALLOWED THEIR OWN BROOMSTICKS

We went first to a bookshop called Flourish and Blotts. As soon as we stepped inside, I was in awe. The shelves of books led all the way up to the ceiling, the books all shapes and sizes. They were all real fantasy books. Their version of fantasy books were most likely a small selection in a corner of books about muggles.

After my moment of amazement, Snape came back from around a shelf with a book in his hand. I hadn't even noticed him leave.

"This is for my class," he said. I squinted at the title.

"_Magical Drafts and Potions_," I read. "You teach . . . Potions?"

"Yes," Snape said.

"Wicked," I grin. "Are all the subjects like that, magical? Or do they have more mundane subjects too?"

"You do have a history class," the professor said, "though it's called History of Magic. And I suppose there are Herbology and Astronomy, which aren't too out of the ordinary, though they both center on the magic of things. My class, potions, is a bit similar to muggle Chemistry, though our ingredients are quite different from theirs."

I nodded in understanding.

"What other books are there?" Snape asked as I looked back down at the list. "I'm assuming there is a Miranda Goshawk book, one of _The Standard Book of Spells_?"

"Yes," I said. "Is that for a spell class?" He nodded.

"You take two classes on 'spells'. Charms and Defense Against the Dark Arts," Snape said. I noticed his expression and smirked.

"Why do you get so stern and freeze up from mentioning the Defense class?"

"I would rather be teaching that class than Potions," he said, after slight hesitation.

"Why aren't you?" I questioned. "Who teaches it?"

Snape laughed, "This year it's a man called Professor Quirinus Quirrell."

I tried to stifle a laugh by turning it into a cough. Snape laughed.

"Oh, don't worry, I hate him."

"Because he has the job you want?" I asked.

Snape hesitated for only half a second, but I saw it. "Yes."

"But there's more," I said. It was a statement, not a question, for I knew the answer.

"I'll tell you later, once term starts."

I shrugged. "I suppose I will have to fair with that. It's a better answer than what you gave me about my parents."

Snape sighed, and said, "Leila–"

"It doesn't matter, I'll figure it out. I don't care if you tell me or not. All it will do is save time. Either way, I will be finding out sometime within my early years at Hogwarts. That I can and will promise," I said and walked to one of the shelves. I traced over the titles with my finger. I heard the professor sigh again from behind me. It was different than before. It was still impatient, but I could sense sympathy in it. He knew and somebody was making him keep it for me. Somehow Snape must have understood how this felt.

The books were arranged in order of subject and alphabetized. The shelf I had first examined was Herbology. I quickly found _One Thousand Magical Herbs and Fungi_ by Phyllida Spore and held it under my arm along with _Magical Drafts and Potions_.

I moved onto the next shelf, which was labeled History, just as Snape came up behind me with two more books: _The Standard Book of Spells (Grade 1_) by Miranda Goshawk and _The Dark Forces: A Guide to Self-Protection _by Quentin Trimble.

"What else?" Snape asked. I looked back down at my list.

"_A History of Magic_ by Bathilda Bagshot, _Magical Theory_ by Adalbert Waffling–"

"Okay," Snape said, striding back over to the shelves on the other side of the shop.

Meanwhile, I went to get _A Beginners' Guide to Transfiguration_ by Emetic Switch and _Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them by Newt Scamander._

We met back up in the center of the shop with all the books.

"If you want to learn about our world and get ahead, go pick out a few books for your own reading," The professor asked.

I nodded. Snape nodded back and got the manager to hold my books at the check-out counter. We then went around and looked for books on the magical world.

Snape was looking at a shelf entitled Historical Magical People. He was gazing at one book in particular, his finger on the binding, tracing the title. To my luck, there were several other copies, so I quickly grabbed one and moved out of the way.

_Great Wizards of the Twentieth Century_, the title read. It seemed to worry Snape, which meant it must have had the answers I needed. I would have to look at this. But I wouldn't pick the first I saw, either. At least not just get this. Maybe in my muggle life I would be careful, but I was extremely wealthy now. I scanned over the other titles. _Nature's Nobility: A Wizarding Genealogy_ . . . _Notable Magical Names of Our_ _Time_ . . . _Prefects Who Gained Power . . . The Rise and Fall of the Dark Arts._

"_The Dark Arts_?" I questioned aloud.

"What?" the professor quickly looked up at me and saw the book I had just drawn from the shelf.

"It says here: '_The Dark Arts'_?" I asked. "You mentioned it before too. One of my classes is called 'Defense Against the Dark Arts'. And there was another book, one that was on the list, called _The Dark Forces: A Guide to Self-Protection_." Whatever they were, they sounded intriguing. But I didn't think they were good. Perhaps it was some sort of evil magic. I had to know more. "Is this . . . some sort of . . . dark magic? _Evil_ magic?"

Snape didn't seem capable of answering. I looked back over the books on the shelf and ended up taking _The Rise and Fall of the Dark Arts, Great Wizards of the Twentieth Century _and _Nature's Nobility: A Wizarding Genealogy._

I put the other books back and moved down through the rows of shelves, scanning the titles. Because of my newfound interest in The Dark Arts, I looked for any sign of that. I did come across books and textbooks for Defense Against the Dark Arts, though that wasn't quite what I wanted.

I wandered toward the back corner of the shop, where the books were in untidy stacks and all very dusty. These books seemed old, or perhaps just untouched. The small space was very quiet as it was slightly cut off from the rest of the shop. It also had dim lighting so I could see the dust swivel around me as I knelt next to a stack of old books.

I placed the three history books next to me and reached for the book on the top of the stack. I could not recall seeing anything dustier. It looked like it had been around for centuries. I thought the binding to be fragile when I first looked at it, but now, as I blew off the dust, I could see that it seemed never to have been touched. It was brand new, but probably still quite old.

_The Secret Evil in Magic_, it read. The author was anonymous. There was a picture of what appeared to be a grim reaper on the cover. I opened the book and more dust escaped into the air, causing me to sneeze. I flipped quickly through the pages, seeing that most of the book had to do with how The Dark Arts fit into regular wizard life. In the back there was a glossary of spells and enchantments that were used for Dark Magic.

I put it down and took a look at the next one. I brushed the dust off to see that the title read _History of the Dark Forces: people and ideas_. Author: Anonymous. I supposed these books, giving that they were writing of The Dark Arts, could get the authors in trouble if whoever was in charge knew who they were. They had to be anonymous.

The next book was _Magick Moste Eville_, by Godelot. It surprised me that this one had the name of the author, but it also looked a lot older. Brushing off the dust only went so far with this one. It was quite obviously more than a thousand years old. Like the others, it was clear it had been rarely touched, but still looked quite fragile.

The next was titled _The Dirty and the Pure_, by E. Selwyn. I supposed it was around as old as the previous, as it was just as dusty and the author was named. They must have been written at a time where these types of books prospered in Wizard society.

I placed it with the past three and looked at the next. It was titled _Pure-Blood Directory_,by Anonymous. I grinned. This had to have my answers. If I saw my surname, my _real_ surname, I would know.

The next was _A Look at Immortality and the Power of Darkness_, by Octavian L. Burke. The fourth word rang in my ears as I whispered it repeatedly under my breath. _Immortality_, I wondered if it was possible in this world, for someone like me. Well, it seemed that someone thought so. Maybe as a witch, a pure-blood witch, I was immortal already. This would show me the answers.

_Why_ _Pureness_ _Rules_, by Mars Fawley, was the book under the previous. The picture on the cover of a snobby-looking wizard with his nose up in the air and his arms crossed over his chest almost made me laugh. It seemed like the guide to being a rich wizard for children based on the cover, but I doubted the content was very much less than serious. Just to be sure, I read the first page of the introduction. It told of how much better wizards pure-bloods were than everyone else through not only magical ability, but ability in everything mentally, physically, and politically.

_Secrets of the Darkest Art_ by Owle Bullock, was another of the beyond-supremely dusty ones and clearly one of the oldest. It was the last I saw before I heard Professor Snape call my name and I realized I had been here for quite a few minutes.

I crawled out of the small dark corner with the eleven books in hand and felt the light hit me again from the nearest window. I breathed in and smirked. It had only been an hour, and already I was in love with this new world.


End file.
